


Solidified

by grayorca15, YearwalktheWorld



Series: Skynet: 900 [20]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Wings, Angst, Drama, Friendship, Gen, Platonic Relationships, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Has a Different Name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 09:58:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18635854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayorca15/pseuds/grayorca15, https://archiveofourown.org/users/YearwalktheWorld/pseuds/YearwalktheWorld
Summary: Wings AU. What goes up...





	Solidified

**Author's Note:**

> End of act one.
> 
> #whocares

Climate change was infuriatingly selective sometimes.

Even in late spring, there were still icy patches of ground to contend with. Well-tractioned footwear was a must-have. But unfortunately, Gavin Reed’s shoes had seen better days. They were good for the sprint up several floors, in pursuit of the red ice dealers who were only running toward the inevitable deadend of the roof.

He had backup. Once Noah intercepted from above, there really wouldn’t be any getting out if the jacked-up deal for them. Squad cars had boxed the block in from all four corners, and hot on Gavin’s heels were at least four other blue collared patrolmen. Outnumbered with nowhere to flee, the inevitable lead into a standoff was as predictable as a gimmie home run.

Then one of the sprinting perps got wise. They waited in the alcove beside the stairwell shed, and jumped out to ambush Gavin with a two-handed shove.

_Suh-prize, motherfucker._

He might have had a chance in not going all the way over, were it not for the ice.

Too stunned to do much more than let out a string of curses and put his hands up, stumbling, flailing for something to grab as he did so, Gavin felt some panic squeeze around his heart as his shoe slipped against the surface.

Fuck, _fuck_ \- he wasn't gonna be able to come back from that, straighten out. He wasn't a fucking hockey player, or a figure skater. He didn't know how to work with ice. One one foot slipped, the other followed along with it, sending him pitching back.

Off the side of a building - now that was gonna be a new one for his impressive book of extensive injuries, whatever they might end up being. At the moment, Gavin couldn't really focus on shit anyways, too caught up in the way his heart was pounding at the inevitable.

He barely noticed the dull pain of his shins slamming into the roof’s edge. Twisting around, trying to grab for the edge and somehow avoid the plunge, he saw only the terrifying drop that waited. The street was clear, save for the police cars cordoning it off. Security drones were swooping their way up like tri-winged gnats, lenses aimed, ready to capture the incident as matter of record.

Assuming the perps were caught, Reed took solace in the idea they would be convicted of killing a police officer.

Alternatively, he was pissed at the idea his embarrassing fall would also be filmed - as much for posterity as for evidence.

He could already imagine the snickers back at the station as everyone heard the dark comedy story of him going splat on the pavement, like a meaty water balloon - what a fucking joke. At least if he died they wouldn't start laughing out loud until a few weeks after the fact. Professional respect for being dead in the line of duty afforded him at least some time to be officially mourned.

Those probably shouldn't have been his thoughts as he teetered over the edge, another second, maybe even less, left until he found himself in the air, but he couldn't help it.

It was preferable to thinking about how gravity snagged him, brutal and unforgiving, and _pulled_ -

——-

Admittedly, Noah wasn’t very practiced at making steep dives. He had run the simulations, been put through more wind tunnel tests than any RK previous. He even managed to hit the target dummies without breaking their spines in the first strike (that was a firm no-no in said regimen). Reportedly, Connor had ruined several before he managed to perfect the non-lethal midair snag.

The second Gavin Reed was shoved and went pitching toward the roof’s edge, Noah gave up all thought of the chase. Swooping by some forty feet above, about to set down, the android banked hard, pulled both wings in flush, and dropped.

He wouldn’t catch the man in time to keep him from going over. And a hollowed-out frame was not made to sustain flight with another full-boned body taking up its arms.

But there was a lower rooftop just across the street. The math of his trajectory and velocity at which he was falling beared it out. If he could hang glide them just far enough, Gavin had a chance.

Better odds at surviving there than if he hit the pavement below.

However slim.

——-

“Stop - flailing!”

He wasn’t given but a millisecond to process this before a shoulder being driven into his gut knocked the wind out of him. The scream he was starting into died as a winded wheeze.

As hard as it was to try and follow such an order with the fucking situation they were in, Gavin obeyed, forcing his limbs to stop kicking and grabbing for nothing. Whatever the hell Noah thought he was doing, it was best to just follow along and hope for the best.

Snatched up mid fall, he felt arms close around his lower back. With the air knocked out of him, he barely noticed the two once-folded wings unfurling to each side. The pearly-white, black-tipped feathers were unmistakable. Grabbing instinctively for any handholds, he found only the loose sides of Noah’s fluttering jacket.

Looking down, the silver-printed word ANDROID and a neon blue triangle stared him back in the face.

Fuck. _This_ was his partner’s idea - pull a Superman and hope for the best?

Goddammit, he was going to die like this, of all ways. If he did, Gavin would at least have his moment of being extremely pissed at Noah for subjecting him to such an embarrassment. Instead, looking down, he sucked in a breath again, trying to stop the terror from freezing him up any further.

Noah’s wings beat twice, big sweeping strokes that ruffled their hair and clothes, but the effort didn’t grant them any lift. Planing across the street - still some four floors above the ground - he noticed the problem with this plan as they kept falling. Wings or no wings, the landing wasn’t going to be any softer.

Barely cresting the edge of the roof, Noah forgot to try and slow down.

Instead, he tried to make a crash mat of himself.

Emphasis on _tried_.

——-

Any company could slap wings on an android if they wanted.

It looked striking enough, rendering their identifying LEDs and armbands almost superfluous in terms of distinguishing human from machine. But aerolite technology was what made flight possible. The science was the same state-shift that let androids go skinless for the purposes of repair - only it was taken to the next level.

Plainly speaking, to get airborne, their endoskeletal frames effectively turned hollow and lightweight. Without any conscious command needed, upon touching the ground those empty spaces would regenerate, fill, and solidify to strengthen against any possible breakage.

The wingstruts remained the same, in any case.

Knowing this, Noah didn’t land any more gracefully. The weight in his arms threw everything else off. The second he grabbed onto Reed, they began to lose altitude.

Managing only a few wingbeats between, running the math as they plummeted, he hastily came up with a plan. He tried to spin over, wing over wing. Landing on his back was preferable to tossing Gavin to the concrete like a ragdoll.

He began the spin a moment too late. In a painfully ironic repeat of history, he snapped a metacarpal against the roof’s edge and skewed sideways. The fracture sent a shudder through the rest of his body.

Once it might have been tolerable as a twinge, a few dozen error messages, and no harm done. There was no rebar here for him to get hung up on.

This time the discomfort sang much more loudly.

Unable to help a dismayed, pained cry at the new burning sensation, radiating along his wing and into his back, Noah hit the ground rolling.

So much for a smooth save.

——-

Fucking _stupid_ android and his fucking noble tendencies, just had to go and save him, no matter the cost.

Which, again, probably wasn't the exact thought Gavin should've been thinking when they hit the roof. But being so close to Noah for the moment meant the android couldn't hope to hide any noises he made, not even cries of pain.

Yep, this confirmed it - crashing hurt like a bitch.

Was this Noah’s idea, make himself a fucking landing pad for him, no matter how hurt he got? Fucking asshole, now Reed was gonna have to actually show his concern once they stopped tumbling long enough to get up.

Or so, he was previously thinking a moment before, until Gavin let out his own mini gasp as some sharp sensation began to radiate through one of his arms, perhaps delayed from whatever the force it had been subjected to.

Looking down at it, he couldn't help the string of curses he was unleashing in his head. It was half bent at an unnatural angle, an image he was familiar enough with from other dumbass things he had done that resulted in this - broken arm, no doubt, to go along with whatever happened to Noah.

Well, it was much better than being some flattened version of himself on the road, that was for fucking sure. He could definitely deal with this, while also being pissed off/concerned at Noah.

Jolting again on the concrete, Gavin sucked in a breath as they finally seemed to be slowing down, which, of course, didn't make it any less painful for either one of them. Unfortunately, this building didn't have the rooftop garden his own did.

With all its lush, soft grass.

The momentum only ragdolled them so far. Somewhere in the dizzying, rough process, Noah lost his grip. Pitching and sliding to a stop, almost side by side, his head hit the concrete one final time with a subtle _crunch_ and stayed there, eyelids fluttering. An upturned wing billowed and draped itself over his body like a limp, undone blanket.

Blinking a few times at him, barely managing to roll upright and get his bearings, Gavin wheezed out an angry breath before forcing himself up. Scooting backwards with his unbroken arm, he glared to cover up any visible pains. “Okay, okay, ow, _fuck…_ Noah. Great job. Nice recovery. Get the fuck up.”

For every computer that ever had it's monitor smacked when it glitched out, none of them ever had a face to look dazed with.

Eyes rolled up, blank and white, Noah only twitched at the sound of a commanding voice. His said nothing, just as his emitting a soft grinding sound was indicative of nothing healthy. A faint red glow illuminated the ground beneath his face.

“Shit, uh…” Getting to his knees, Gavin braced his good arm on the ground as he leaned closer. He never was good with any technology - how the hell was he supposed to know just what was wrong, in terms of the wiring and all that shit? “Noah? …N? Goddammit, can you - hear me? Or speak?”

The impact must have rattled his processors around like dice in a cage. He was built to be smart and wiry, not tough as a brick (that money had been spent on Vernon). They had been through enough street-level scuffles to know it. And still the dumbass went for the superhero save like a runner going for home plate.

Another grinding, clicking noise emitted. Blinking several deliberate blinks, Noah seemed to reorient himself. His irises rotated back down into view, only to disappear again behind a wincing grimace. His shoulders tensed, both wings collapsing back on each other in a useless heap.

“I h-hear you, Detective. S-sorry.”

“Yeah, yeah, fuck it. Now, before I yell too much - what's wrong with you? Besides your relentlessly fuckin’ selfless streak?”

Normally that would serve to break whatever fake hurt show the android was putting on. He couldn’t resist answering what was asked of him, even had a tendency to pester if he didn’t think he had answered sufficiently.

But not this time.

Cringing, Noah set one, then both hands against the ground, attempting to lift himself up. The right side of his head and cheek had been scraped down to the plastic, but there was no visible blue blood. Weirdest of all was how he shook and rattled like a half-busted car trying to pull back up to speed.

“Blunt force - damages. Several.” Pausing as to compose himself, perched on one elbow, he gave a low hiss, like an irate boiler. “Crash beacon - wasn’t triggered.”

“Okay, okay. Fuck, I feel like I'm always playin’ doctor with you, anyway…” Gavin muttered, before struggling a bit closer, still half-glaring at him. “What do I gotta do, or who do I gotta call?”

Spinning yellow for a few seconds, Noah scowled as it reverted back to red. Sparing his partner almost a weary look, he dragged himself into a kneeling position. His right wing, bent too far one way, lay stretched out on the ground.

“It’s nothing you can - fix, Detective. I’ve already - notified CyberLife. You’ll need - a hospital, to set a fracture that - severe.”

“Fuck, sure, I'll go after.” Dismissing him with a wave, Gavin settled back down to a sitting position. “Trust me, this shit's happened before. Let's just wait and see when those idiots get here for you.”

Wait and see.

Three of the words Noah loathed the most. He was a proactive sort. Like any other rookie, he didn’t know when it was better to just let a case cook rather than search out more ingredients. In that regard, getting hurt typically made no difference. He would drag himself to a crime scene if his legs inexplicably ceased to work.

Same as Connor.

Unlike his predecessor, though, Noah wasn’t experienced in handling bouts of pain. He didn’t know when to stop. But all the signs Gavin was seeing now said he was feeling it, big time.

See what playing hero gets you?

Besides the discomfort, irritation crossed Noah’s face. Bracing a hand, he tried to stand the rest of the way up, despite how the busted wing dragged and flopped.

Stupid. He was only making it worse.

“ _Stop._ You're just making shit worse for yourself now, okay? Sit down.”

Giving in to the suggestion, despite the expression saying he was on the verge of refuting it, Noah gave up that fight as soon as it started. The shaking in his limbs lessened as he fell back to hands and knees, painstakingly rearranging himself to sit on one hip. With every halting movement and word it became more apparent this wasn’t an act.

“Jesus, well… at least this time you didn't get fuckin’ impaled, huh? Now that woulda just been another slap in the face.”

“Getting - impaled - hurt less, at the time.” Gingerly flexing the ruined limb for what it was worth, Noah tried to fold the wing around, presumably to look at the damage with his own eyes, and not just what the system errors were telling him. The snapped joint hung there like an unanswered handshake, the vanes of several primary feathers matted and split. “This actually - aches.”

“Yep, that's what a broken bone feels like, dude. Or… whatever passes for a bone with you.” Not that Gavin wasn't sympathetic, but if it was going to happen, at least they were both still okay, as in still conscious, and could wait the pain of something like this out together. “You'll get fixed soon, just relax.”

“Implying that you already - are?” Incredulity passed across Noah’s face before he cringed, reaching out to grasp the broken joint with both hands. Stabilizing it in the meantime wasn’t a bad idea. “Detective, o-once the adrenaline wears off, you’ll - feel how badly that hurts.”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks for the positivity, there.” Rolling his eyes at him, Gavin did take a glance down at his own broken limb nonetheless. Still bent at the wrong angle, it was almost laughable, almost. Shit, he was right - soon enough the real pain was gonna kick in, the same way it had with the bullet. “I can deal with that shit.”

He could, as he had plenty of practice at it, going back years.

From the bewildered frown Noah was now sporting, it was clear the android was getting all too anxious - just like any kid with their first broken bone. Somewhere math was running at lightspeed behind those blue eyes, and he wasn’t liking the probability results of it. His LED brightened from a dull gold to an almost-orange tint.

Cautiously, as if he were testing the severity of his own break, the android let go of the snapped joint. The first third of the wing fell limp again.

Shoulders hunching, he barely stifled a whine and made to grab it up again.

 _Just_ like a kid - seeing how badly it hurt, when it was the worst thing they could be doing. Wasn’t he smarter than that?

“Oh _-kay,_ as someone with more experience than you, heed my advice - leave it the fuck alone, Noah.” Gavin used his good arm to swat at the android, making sure it didn't actually hit him, but close enough for the gesture to be noticed. “You're only gonna hurt worse, doin’ that, okay? Leave it be.”

It did nothing to assuage the distress. Noah actually twitched away from the swatting hand, scooting sideways, back toward the roof’s edge. He grabbed a fistful of feathers, holding the break steady despite the way it must have throbbed.

“It shouldn’t be - hurting - at all.”

Great. The denial was setting in now.

“Hey, hey, don't - okay, I get it, shouldn't be hurting, but it is.” Somewhat alarmed by the move, Gavin shuffled after him, gripping at the shoulder of his broken arm. “No two ways about it. Shit, man, you don't have to hold it.”

The more it was messed with, the worse it would get. And his rudimentary knowledge of bird wings said a broken wing usually rendered a given bird flightless for the rest of its life. There was no way to splint and heal a hollow bone.

Androids weren’t inbuilt with that mode of thinking, were they? Their wings were replaceable. No worry about being grounded unless their aerolite function was permanently set to ‘grounded’.

Noah didn’t need to look so worried over the prospect, and yet he was. Experimentally, he felt along the strut, seeking out the actual break before wrapping his hand firmly around it, pulling the limb against himself the same way Gavin cradled his own arm.

“Holding it - doesn’t ache - as much.”

“Okay, okay, if it doesn't hurt for you…” he muttered, but still eyed him semi-nervously. Who knew just what the hell was running through Noah's head? It wasn't anything good, that was for sure. The stilted speech was indicative enough. “Listen, man, you're not… uh, you feelin’ panicky, like that other time?”

That was the last thing either of them needed - autopilot to kick in, while Noah was by no means capable of flight. The stress couldn’t have already gotten that bad, in so short a time. Yes, they had crashed and hurt themselves something fierce, but they weren’t dead.

More than half deviant or not, Noah still had a grip on himself. He wasn’t one to let his programming just run with him as it pleased. His self-control was better than that of most androids Reed had known.

Which was admittedly few, but beside the point.

Eyes a touch rounder than normal, Noah set his jaw. “No, I - I’m fine. Just the - shock, wearing off.”

While the hurt was setting in - great trade off.

“Fuck, okay, if that's all it is. It's gonna be okay, just gotta wait this shit out.”

Wait might as well have been its own curse word in Noah’s dictionary. He blinked and mimed a swallow he didn’t need, setting his chin down atop his curved shoulder. It wasn’t quite the shelter-in-place huddle Nick favored in times of stress, but recognizable.

Maybe it wasn’t only the foreign sensation of pain making him act so edgy all of a sudden.

“ _Hey_ , Noah.” Reaching out once more, Gavin cautiously pat the shoulder closest to him twice, gentle as he could manage. “C’mon. Don’t check out. Tell me what's goin’ on in that fuckin’ computer brain of yours, yeah?”

Signals pinging back and forth, evidently he was processing some unsavory information. By the nervous clench of his jaw, and the uptight body language, it couldn’t just be the hurt getting to him.

Eventually, he refocused on Gavin’s face, shakily relaying an answer, “An ETA update - from the recollection team. They’ll be here - in T-minus seven minutes, thirty-four seconds.”

Well, he _had_ asked the computer for a sitrep. Of course the RK900 would temporarily revert to that mode.

“Uh, okay, got that. I mean, what're you thinkin’ of, that's got you in such a fuckin’ state? C'mon. You can tell me, I ain't gonna joke.”

Neither of them were exactly healthy enough for that, at the moment. Not to mention the little overshadowing fact of the rescue-from-certain-death. Had he not snapped a wing in the process, Noah probably would be taking a minute or two to boast.

Instead, Gavin got to see the insecure side of him.

Again.

“They… I… CyberLife warned me, last time this occurred. They said… what would happen, if I ever repeated the… stunt.”

And by _stunt_ he meant _crash_. After the rapport they had cultivated, Reed didn’t think an act of saving his life would be something Noah described as a stunt. That was the company talking through him.

“And… that is?” As frustrated as he could have acted, Gavin didn't have the energy or heart to do so. Not when Noah was obviously so distressed, and they were both injured. “What did they say?”

The LED pulsed red. Whatever program firewall was keeping Noah from simply coming out and saying it, the android looked torn between hiding behind that versus confessing to the privately-made threat. It was no secret how ‘poorly’ CyberLife treated their tech, automated living assistants chief among that. The definition of poor varied depending on who one talked to, of course.

When that person being spoken to was one of those same automations, badmouthing the same company who created you didn’t always come easy.

No matter how badly you wanted to.

The facial twitches started to resurface. Gavin saw them the last time his glitch-prone partner lapsed into autopilot mode. Gripping his broken wing even tighter, mindless of any agony it caused, Noah stifled another whine before wrapping his left wing over himself. Never had he taken advantage of his own built-in hiding place.

Was it autopilot mode, trying to get its hooks in him, or some kind of remote override? It wasn’t above CyberLife to arbitrarily commandeer their prototypes at will. The last time they attempted it, Connor and his less-talked-about cousin Red had tried to ax each other while the rest of the precinct watched. Kill the lesser model, then recall the victor. Just like raptors in nature, only one could reign over its given territory.

Thankfully there had been four other variant RKs around to keep it from happening. And Noah had been decidedly absent from that encounter. He never spoke of it, and no one asked. Like the day he first turned up, they simply assumed he had a reason for being there.

Dumbasses. Assumptions only got you so far.

Like now - assuming the worst wasn’t doing him any favors.

“Hey, _hey._ You can't just - Noah.” Pushing himself even closer, Gavin hesitated in putting a hand on him again. Who knew how much even a touch that would fucking spook him? Wasn't exactly worth accidentally getting another broken bone, for either one of them. “Okay, I get you're panicking, but I can't - I don't even know if I can help. If you tell me, I'll figure some shit out.”

Buried as he was under the feathers, Noah’s only response amounted to another hunch of his shoulders. He might have tried to speak, but it only amounted to a muffled cough of static.

Whatever game CyberLife was playing this time, he wasn’t being given a choice in the matter.

Fuck. This whole, prodding and questioning Noah bullshit obviously wasn't working - it was probably just gonna make him feel worse if Gavin continued. Between the pain in his wing and whatever seizure-inducing lightshow his processors were being wrung through, no wonder the android couldn’t focus.

“Okay, I'll stop askin’.” He halted any attempts to touch him, instead choosing to just sit with him, cradling his broken arm to his chest just a bit tighter. He couldn't just keep silent, though - that could invite Noah to get even fucking worse than he already was. “Okay, but, uh… hey. Listen. Wanna hear some dumbass story? About how I got all scarred up?”

Now there was one subject neither of them had dared broach before, each for their own reasons.

But if Noah could be counted on for anything it was wondering. Sometimes he asked about matters at the least opportune times. More often than not he kept stoic, lest he step on any toes.

With that irresistible bait now tossed in front of him, he only stopped shuddering so violently. The rapid beeping and grinding noises quieted.

“Wh… what?”

“C'mon. I know you do, you nosy fucker. Admit it.” Rolling his eyes sarcastically, Gavin let out a huff. Not that he wasn't about to say ‘actually, no’, but it wasn't exactly the sort of thing he liked talking about. But then again, most of his life could be considered that. “Lemme set the fuckin’ stage… so I'm what, sixteen, or the like? This was right before goin’ to Mary's. I sorta, maybe, ran off of the last foster home I was at, can't really remember why, just that I did it.”

On the contrary, he remembered exactly why. But that detail would only serve to detract and horrify right now, so it was better left omitted. He only had so many minutes before CyberLife’s goons showed up.

Evidently thinking the same, Noah pushed a handful of feathers aside, revealing his scratched-up, unusually-wide-eyed face.

(Damn it, did he have to look so adorably pathetic?)

“Anyways, so being the young, punk dumbass that I was, didn't really bring any shit with me - I mean, I did, but it wasn't food, that sorta stuff. You know, shit humans actually need to survive.” Gavin grimaced at that, but let himself off the hook for it at the time. What kid is truly thinking of that when trying to just escape? “So by the third day, I'm pretty much fuckin’ done with the whole bein’ hungry mess. But I wasn't about to go back to that family, or to the agency, so I had to think of some other way to get cash. So… yeah, I pulled some fucking stunt. I ain't sayin’ it was right, but I just sorta…”

Okay, so this part, he really wasn't proud of. Sure, he was hungry and in strung out shape at the time, but it still didn't make it exactly right.

“I tried to take some stuff, from a store. My master plan was to somehow sell that shit, and then gorge myself at the nearest fast food place. Except I was super fucking nervous and jumpy because _duh,_ so I pretty much made it extremely obvious what the hell I was doin’. I got caught by a patrol android the second I was outta there, and keep in mind, this was like, a good amount of time ago, so they weren't as fine tuned as they are now.”

Noah could and probably was already filling in the blanks ahead of schedule. With a very slow, measured pulling motion, he unfolded the wing from atop his head, eyes still rapt, even as his LED kept spinning and blinking frantically of its own accord.

Wherever his focus had been pulled away to, it seemed to have returned. The distant slant to his gaze was gone.

The second the words ‘patrol android’ were said, the processing noises halted.

“Anyways, so I'm my normal, charming self - you can probably guess just what I was actin’ like. Combine that with the fact I was pretty much fuckin’ livid that what I thought was my one shot at a meal in a bit, I'm sure I was being a little shit, I ain't saying I wasn't. I dunno if I just managed to piss him off, or if he just had some frayed wires or some shit, but all the sudden that thing just starts wailin’ on me.” Gavin shrugged. How much more detail could he put in it? It wasn't as if he exactly remembered every last detail. Most of what he had retained after the initial attack had only been dulled and worn over with age.

The worst takeaway of all were the reminders littered about his person.

“I'd like to say I got a good hit or two back, but I probably didn't. Pretty sure I was too stunned by it all that I got hit in the first place to try. Dude was vicious, I mean - you see all the fuckin’ scars. Isn't there a rule about not goin’ for the face?”

If there was, Noah didn’t see fit to rehash it, then and there. Per the inadvertent direction, his pupils refocused - surrounded by those pale irises (with their darkening edges), it was always easy to see when they did. They flicked one way, then the other, and back before a corner of his mouth twitched in an attempted frown.

That much was fine. He didn’t need to see or hear any votes of sympathy. They were several years too late and not even necessary on the RK900’s part. He didn’t inflict them. Yes, he was semi-responsible for Reed’s broken arm. But the blame stopped there.

Mulling the tale over, his LED held solid. It’s erratic blinking absent, he looked in control of his own faculties again.

“But it - it still hurt you?”

“I mean… yeah, dude. I don't exactly have fond memories of that fuckin’ incident. It was a long time ago, who cares. I got hurt, got sent to the hospital, still came back out with all these scars.” Gesturing to his face, Gavin shrugged again, before dropping his arm to cradle the other one again. “These were a little more angry and impressive back then, though.”

A more sentimental person may have said sorry at that moment. For all the times he said it and it wasn’t required, Noah only defaulted to repeating a phrase he originally said not too long ago. Whatever morose reaction he was experiencing seemed to dull his own hurts for the moment, keep him grounded in the physical and not lost in some electronic fuzz out there in the ether.

“That… explains a lot.”

“Yeah, you always say that.” Giving a sigh, Gavin squinted at him, but didn't make any comments, or question him. Wouldn't do shit, at this point. “But, sure, that's the story of why I'm all scarred up. Told you my vacation was runnin’ away.”

Maybe not in so many words. It wasn’t any big fantasy like Yellowstone or the Sierra Nevadas. But in some small, sad way, it counted.

And it made even more pitiful sense why him imagining anything grander was just a waste of brain cells.

——-

Arriving with EMTs in tow (alerted to attend to Detective Reed’s own injuries), the armed recovery team ascended to the roof first. Fanning out from the stairwell, guns drawn as a precaution, their eyeless halfmasks matched their no-nonsense frowns just perfectly.

Eyes half hooded, Noah scowled right back as one of the rifle’s prodded at the side of his head.

“On your feet, RK900.”

Colby’s indifferent hellos were somehow more satisfying.

They were only following procedure. A damaged unit was automatically considered to be dangerous. The same went for him as much as any other CyberLife-built prototype ever in need of recall. It didn’t mean he necessarily cared for their authoritarian tone, either.

“Hey… don't fuckin’ - talk to him like that.” Gavin glared at the new men from his own position, almost struggling to get up, as if he could intimidate them with one broken arm. “That ain't his name, dumbass.”

Circling at the edge of the six man team were three medics - one human woman to two androids. “Detective, if you’ll step toward us, please.”

Steeling himself against the throb, Noah dropped his broken wing in favor getting to his feet as ordered. He appreciated Reed’s insistence for what it was, but neither of them were in a position to disobey or protest. It would be less of a fuss to part, and hope for the best.

The staticky claws of an aborted override attempt still festered throughout his battered frame.

The rifle-wielding agent only nudged again, using the weapon’s muzzle to force Noah back to a standing position (however slumped his graceless wings made it look).

“The asset goes with us, sir. You’d do well to take care of yourself instead.”

“Oh, fuck you. Don't prod him like that, he's not a fucking dog.” Ignoring the medic's advice for a moment, Gavin instead took a step closer to them. “Nah, I wouldn't even treat a dog that way. Have some decency.”

A second nameless, mostly-faceless agent stepped between the two sides. “Keep your _distance_.”

As if that would be enough to convince him.

Noah actually tamped down an urge to smirk. He could allow Gavin one moment of honor-defending. “On your order, Agent 78. I’m not s-so broken I can’t walk.”

“Assholes. You're lucky my arm is broken,” he threatened, but stepped back all the same at Noah's voice, back toward the medics. “Fuckin’ psychos, you all are. He saved my ass, and this is the thanks he gets?”

In a way, he wasn’t wrong.

If saving him from falling off a roof could be labeled as such, without the necessary preconstructive planning required to avoid injury, Noah supposed he fit in there just fine.

The fear he had felt, the near-switch to autopilot, was just a momentary lapse in awareness. It had to be.

He managed a half smile. “Regardless, Detective, I’m glad you’re - okay. And I’m sorry about the arm.” Barely acknowledging the twinge in his spine, another gun prodding insistently at his back, Noah let himself be guided toward the stairs. “I’ll - have to sign your cast next we see each other.”

“Ha! Fuck, dude. You'll be the first.” Still glaring at the armed men, Gavin finally retreated to the medics in full, letting his grip on his arm go in favor of letting them examine it. “Fuckin’ bye, N. For now.”

Bye for now, indeed.

Best case scenario.

The worst, Noah couldn’t begin to say what that was. And more than that, he didn’t want to think on. He had run the numbers, and he didn’t like what they said. The smile dropped as soon as he stepped down onto the first riser.

Right to remain silent - enabled.


End file.
